A Pirate's Life
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: Life as a pirate may not be what little Willy Turner thinks.
1. An Old Friends' Return

"Tell me again, Mum," Willy pleaded.  "About Dad and Jack Sparrow.  And the cursed pirates, don't forget them!"

"Willy, you know the story backwards and forwards.  Why don't _you_ tell it to _me_?" Elizabeth smiled at her son and ruffled his hair.  He looked so like his father.

"Aw, come on, Mum," he begged.

"Alright," Elizabeth conceded.  She could never resist her son for long.  "This be the tale of the Black Pearl and the cursed pirates who sail her.  Long ago, on the Isla de Muerta, was buried a treasure.  But it was cursed!  Any man who removed but a single piece…"

Will Turner watched his wife and son from the doorway of Willy's small bedroom.  Their tiny house above the smithy wasn't much, but it was home.  As the only blacksmith for Port Royal, he could probably have afforded a bit better but Will was careful with money.  He never wanted to be forced into a situation where he would have to steal or borrow.  His brief foray into piracy almost 10 years ago was simply a means to his end.  Though he had gained a new understanding and a certain respect for pirates, he had no wish to join in their 'trade'.

Elizabeth finished her story and kissed Willy goodnight.  She smiled when she saw Will in the doorway.  Holding her in his arms, Will gazed at their son.  Nine years old…he would have to start apprenticing soon.  Will tried to remember his own training from Master Brown, hoping it would be useful in teaching Willy.  Unfortunately, this proved to be an exercise in futility as Master Brown had done little training in anything except how to drink oneself into oblivion.

Will and Elizabeth retired to their own bedroom for the night.  Elizabeth drifted off to sleep fairly quickly, but Will was not so lucky.  His mind suddenly whirling, he lie awaked for several hours before finally settling into a restless sleep.

He woke abruptly.  Unable at first to find the reason for his awakening, he was about to doze off again when he heard a noise.  Slowly rising so as not to disturb Elizabeth, he walked softly to the bedroom door.  He heard it again, a barely discernible roaring sound…the fire!  Someone had broken into the smithy and stoked the fire.  Unsure if he would find hardened criminals attempting to steal his tools or simply vagabonds trying to cook their food, he took up his sword from next to the bed.  Opening the door as silently as possible, he crept down the stairs, careful not to step on the creaky 4th step.  Coming down the stairs the roar of the fire became evermore distinct and he began to see the flickering glow reflected on the walls.  He took a deep breath, drew his sword and was about to leap into the smithy when he heard voices.

"Were you frightened, Captain Jack?" Will's heart stopped.  Willy…

"No, mate.  I'm never frightened." Will rubbed his ears.  He hadn't heard that voice in ten years but he would know it anywhere.  He walked into the smithy.

"Will!  Good to see you, mate.  I was just telling young Willy here about some of my grander adventures." Captain Jack Sparrow, legendary captain of the Black Pearl, grinned, showing his many gold teeth.  Seeing Will's expression he hastily added, "Don't worry.  I left Tortuga out of it."

"Tortuga?  What's that?" Willy asked, oblivious to his father's worry.  Jack looked like he was about to answer, but Will stopped him with a look.

"It's Spanish for turtle," Will answered.  Willy looked at him like he didn't quite believe it but accepted the response for the time being.


	2. A Commission

            "Why are you here, Jack?" Will asked bluntly.  Jack pretended to be offended.

            "I came to see you, mate.  What, can't stop in on an old friend?" He grinned and the firelight glinted of his gold teeth.

            "You haven't in the past ten years.  Why start now?" Will was tired of Jack's games.

            "Fair enough.  I'm in Port Royal on business.  Need a new sword.  Word has it you're the finest sword-smith in the Caribbean, so I came here.  Savvy?" Jack tilted his head, judging Will's reaction.  Will's eyes narrowed, trying to determine if Jack was telling the truth.  Finally deciding that he was, he nodded slowly.

            "I can't do it now; it's the middle of the night.  And I have other orders.  When do you need it?"

            "We set sail tomorrow morning.  Is that a problem?"

            "Fire up the smithy in the middle of the night?  The neighbors would lynch me!  And then Elizabeth would take a shot, as well.  Are you daft?" Will paused and considered his last words. "Never mind, I should know that by now.  What time tomorrow?" He sighed, knowing Jack would never let him go until he agreed.

            "Morning tea.  Look on the bright side, Will!  This is an opportune time to teach the boy."

            "I don't want to be a blacksmith.  I want to be a pirate!" Willy exclaimed.

            "A fine goal, mate!" Jack encouraged enthusiastically.

            "You'll do no such thing, son.  Piracy isn't a trade, it's a crime." Will countered quietly.

            "You should listen to your father, son." Jack interjected.  Both Will and Willy turned to look at him. "What?  I've always said I was a dishonest man.  Besides, Willy, a pirate's life is a wretched existence.  Always running from the law, always eating last week's scraps, always just barely surviving."

            "Jack's right, Willy.  Blacksmithing is a good, solid trade.  You'll be able to provide for your family and always be within the law."

            "But _you_ went out pirating, Dad!  And you always say that Captain Jack is a pirate _and_ a good man." Jack looked pleasantly surprised at this and turned with raised eyebrows to Will.

            "You really think so?"

"Well, you did help save Elizabeth," Will conceded embarrassedly and tried to steer the conversation back to his son.  "Willy, that was different.  I was going after your mother.  I didn't want to; it was necessary."

"Ah, but you know you enjoyed it, mate," Jack broke in, grinning.  Will's glare wiped the smile off his face and he shrugged apologetically.

"I'll have your sword ready by morning tea tomorrow, then.  You'll have to pay extra for that, you know." Will knew Jack knew, and he was prepared for every excuse in the book as to why he wouldn't pay.  But Jack surprised Will.

"I know, mate.  I'll have ten extra shillings for you in the morning, along with five for the bed."

"Bed?" Will asked.

"Well, seeing as I'm already here, and I'm just coming right back in the morning, I figured it'd be more…efficient…to stay here." Jack gave Will his most endearing smile.  Will sighed.  It was late, he was tired, he trusted Jack to a point…why not?  Besides, he reasoned, if he refused Jack would probably just break back in.  This way he could get five extra shillings.

"Alright.  But you stay downstairs," Will warned, "and don't touch anything."


	3. Shanghai!

            Will wiped the sweat from his brow and delivered a few more blows to the formless iron lying on the anvil.  In a little while it would become fishhooks, a common order for the blacksmith of a harbor town.  It was almost afternoon teatime and Elizabeth came downstairs with a drink of water and some food for Will.  He paused from his work to eat with her and they spent a few minutes just enjoying each other's company.

            "Where's Willy?" Elizabeth finally asked.  Will looked around, as if to find the boy hiding somewhere in the smithy.

            "Playing with some friends, I think," Will answered.  He hadn't seen Willy since early that morning, just after Jack had left with his sword.

            Will wasn't terrible worried about Willy until it started to get dark and he still hadn't returned.  Will lit a torch and buckled on his sword to go search for Willy.  Elizabeth insisted on coming along.  They started at the governor's mansion, thinking Willy might have gone to see his grandfather and lost track of time, but the governor hadn't seen him.  They next checked the fort, knowing how Willy loved to talk to the soldiers and sailors, but none of them had seen him either.  Moving toward the harbor, they began to dread what they might find.  Willy loved the water and he was a fairly good swimmer, but the water in the harbor was deep and the currents strong.

            Walking along the shore and up and down the docks, Will and Elizabeth shined the torch in the water and asked everyone if they had seen Willy.  A few people had seen a young boy who looked like Willy, but didn't remember where he had gone.  When they reached the other end of the beach, Elizabeth broke down and cried on Will's shoulder.  He tried to comfort her but he too was struggling with his emotions.  So absorbed were they in their own thoughts that they didn't hear a man approach them until he cleared his throat.  There stood in the moonlight an old man, dressed in rags and sporting a scraggly beard on his dirty face.

            "You be the ones lookin' for the boy?" the man asked gruffly.

            "Yes," Will answered cautiously.  "Have you seen him?"

            "I seen a boy.  Don't know if he be yourn.  Titchy little fing, no more 'n ten years on 'im.  Brown 'air, skin like a Spaniard.  Fink 'is eyes was the color o' the sea.  'E your kid?"

            "Yes," Elizabeth gasped, wiping her eyes.  "When did you see him?  Where is he?  Is he alright?"

            "Slow down, m'lady.  Far as I know, 'e's fine.  'E came walkin' down 'ere round-a-bout mornin' tea.  Looked like 'e was followin' someone, like 'e didn' wanna be seen.  Made me suspicious, like.  Though' 'e might be tryin' to lift somethin'."

            "Willy would never –" Elizabeth started defensively.

            "I didn' know 'im, m'lady.  I was jus' finkin' from experience.  Anyway, 'e seemed to be followin' this real outlandish-like bloke. 'Ad black all around 'is eyes and 'is beard was _plaited_!  Of all fings, eh?  'Ad real strange clothes, too.  Like 'e'd 'ad 'em twenty years.  Walked real funny, like 'e was drunk."

            "Jack," Will said quietly.

            "Ye know 'im?  That's good, then.  'Cause your kid's on 'is ship."

            "What?" Will exclaimed.  Elizabeth looked alarmed.  "Was he kidnapped?"

            "I dunno.  All's I know is what I sees.  I sees the kid follow the bloke 'alf-way up the gangplank.  The bloke turns around, finally realizes the kid's there.  Talks to 'im a bit, the kid walks back down to the dock, the bloke gets on the ship.  Kid waits a bit, then walks back up the plank, real quiet-like.  Dunno what the chap said to 'im, but it looked more like a stowaway than a shang'ai."  The man had finished his story and shuffled away into the night.  Will and Elizabeth stood, shocked, for a few moments before doing anything.  Suddenly, Will started back towards the fort.

            "Where are you going?" Elizabeth asked.

            "To the fort.  I'm going to ask Commodore Norrington to borrow a ship.  We need to go after them." It pained Will greatly to have to ask for help, but he didn't want to steal a ship.  He would be willing, for his son, if it came to that, but he wanted to ask first.  Besides, Norrington had a weakness where Willy was concerned.  Will suspected it had something to do with him wishing Willy were _his_ son, but right now it didn't matter.  All that mattered was that they get Willy back before he got hurt.


	4. Adventures, Here I Come!

            Willy huddled in a corner of the dark hold, fighting the nausea that had set in once the ship had started its voyage.  He was fairly experienced on ships from his hours spent with sailors in Port Royal but he was always on deck when the ship was moving.  Being below while the ship was traveling was a new experience for him and it was not a good one.

            He heard someone lumbering down the ladder into the belly of the ship.  He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be found or not.  On the one hand, he desperately needed fresh air.  On the other, he didn't want to be returned to shore.  The choice was not his to make, however.  His stomach finally won the fight with his will and he vomited on the floor.  He heard the man who had just entered the hold pause and could imagine him looking around for the source of the noise.  Willy held his breath and tried to remain still, but the man was already heading in his direction.  Willy ducked behind a barrel, peeking around to see the searcher.  At last the man came into view.

            He was a portly man with graying dark hair and thick muttonchops.  He held a small black flask in his right hand and took a swig regularly.  He looked like he could be either a good friend or a fierce enemy.  He stopped and examined the place where Willy had vomited, glancing around and trying to find where the culprit had gone.  Willy scooted further behind the barrel, trying to hide himself better.  Muttonchops heard him and quickly made his way to Willy's hiding spot.  Willy was on his feet now, ready to run when the opportunity presented itself.

            Muttonchops came around the barrel, cutting off Willy's escape route.  Undaunted, Willy leapt at the man, nearly knocking him off his feet.  Muttonchops recovered quickly, however, and grabbed Willy by the arm.  Willy struggled, but Muttonchops was too strong.

            "Well, well, what have we here?" Muttonchops muttered.  "Looks like a stowaway.  What be your name, boy?"

            Willy stared sullenly at Muttonchops, refusing to answer.

            "Ah, so it's going to be like that, eh?  Well, we'll just have to take ye to the captain."  Muttonchops, retaining his firm grip on Willy's arm, dragged him toward the ladder.  Willy noticed that though Muttonchops' left arm was fully occupied, his right continued to bring that flask to his mouth.

            They made their way, awkwardly, up the ladder and in to fresh air and good daylight.  Willy eagerly drank in the salt breeze, unaware of how Muttonchops was staring at him.  He finally felt Muttonchops' eyes on him and turned, wondering what was the matter.  Muttonchops finally found his voice.

"You – you're – how – " he struggled for a minute, then smiled.  "You may not want to tell me your name, boy, but I know well who you be."

Chuckling, Muttonchops continued toward the helm.  Willy followed, though Muttonchops had released his arm, out of curiosity.  _Besides_, he thought.  _Where would I go?_  It was true.  The ship was big enough, but he could never hide from a whole crew.  And what would be the point of hiding?  He was here to have an adventure, not to spend a voyage being sick in a hold.

They reached the helm and were confronted with the captain.  Willy cringed.  Captain Jack had told him to go home but he had stowed away instead.  What would he say?  Willy was surprised to see that he looked half-admiring and half-afraid.

"Willy Turner!  Your dad's going to kill me, mate!  We're taking you back to port immediately, savvy?"

Willy decided that the only way he would be able to stay on board was to lie.   Hoping his parents would understand, he replied, "Wait!  I…I asked my dad and he said it was okay.  Please let me stay!"

Jack looked unconvinced. "Will 'piracy is a crime not a trade' Turner gave his son permission to sail under Captain Jack Sparrow?  I'm not stupid, mate."

"No, it's true!  He said I should do it now and get it out of my blood.  I'll pull my own weight.  I can be a cabin boy or something.  I'm pretty good on a ship, I won't be any trouble.  Please," Willy gave Jack his 'puppy eyes', the ones that always worked on his mother.  Unfortunately, Muttonchops broke in.

"I found him being sick in the hold, Cap'n.  Dunno if he's fit for sea duty."  Willy glared at him.

"It's just because I wasn't used to being below when the ship is moving.  I'm fine now!  I promise."  Jack looked like he was beginning to melt and Willy pounced on him.  "My mum said if you let me do this, she'll give you a bottle of rum and a kiss when we get back."

Jack's eyebrows shot up and his mouth turned up in a smile.  "Well, then, I think it's settled.  Gibbs," he said to Muttonchops, "show young Mr. Turner to his quarters."

"Aye, Cap'n!" Gibbs responded, then paused. "Er, where would those be exactly?"

"He can room with Cotton.  Poor man, no one wanted to stay with him."

"Probably because of the parrot," Willy put in.  Jack and Gibbs looked at him in surprise.  "I know the story of the curse inside out," he explained. "My mum told me about the crew.  So, Mr. Gibbs, where's my berth?"


	5. Tortuga

            Willy stood in the bow of the _Pearl_, relishing the feel of the salt spray on his face.  Squinting into the sun, he could just barely make out land ahead.  They would reach the harbor just after sunset, the best time, according to Captain Jack, to be in Tortuga.  Willy was excited.  He had learned from the crew that Tortuga, aside from being the Spanish for turtle, was a bustling pirate town.  He couldn't wait for his first real foray into the life of a pirate.

            Willy had been on the _Pearl_ only one day and he was already hungry.  Pirates, he had learned, don't eat a whole lot on board ship.  Apparently they save up for when they go looting.  For a young boy accustomed to two good meals and two teatimes a day, this was quite an adjustment.  He was adapting, though.  _Besides,_ he thought.  _What's a little food next to all this adventure?_  That the adventure had yet to appear was of little concern to him.  He was sure it would soon.

            They docked in Tortuga shortly after sunset, just as Captain Jack had predicted.  Hurrying ashore with the rest of the crew, Willy followed them to _The Faithful Bride_.  The pub was dark and smoky and very, very crowded.  Willy was being jostled to and fro as he tried to follow the crew to a table.  An enormously buxom woman approached him and batted her eyelashes.  Unsure of her intent, Willy smiled politely and tried to continue on his way.  She pushed closer, batting furiously and wiggling her hips.  Nine-year-old Willy wondered if maybe something was wrong with her.  She persisted, now tugging her dress off one shoulder.  Alarmed, Willy struggled desperately to get away but the crowd was too thick.  He felt a hand grab his arm.  At first frightened, he realized the hand was dragging him away from the strange woman and relaxed.  Turning to thank his rescuer, he saw it was Mr. Cotton.

            "Scrawk!  Here there be dragons!  Scrawk!" Cotton's parrot screeched.

            "Thanks, Cotton." Willy breathed, relieved.  Cotton just nodded curtly and strode off.  Willy glanced around and finally saw the crew seated at a table, drinking liberally and laughing loudly.  He joined them and asked, somewhat hesitantly, if he could have a drink.  They roared with laughter and Willy found his ears heating with anger and humiliation.  Just then, however, Gibbs stepped in.

            "Boy wants a drink, let's give 'im a drink!  Earned it, he has.  Why he's almost a man, and a man needs his rum!" The crew roared again, this time in agreement.  Jostling each other so as to be the first to give Willy a flagon, they passed up a huge pitcher of rum.  Willy took it eagerly and turned it bottom up.  Gulping quickly, it took a second before he actually tasted the liquid.  Shocked by the bitter taste, he spewed a stream of rum across the table to the great amusement of the crew.

            Embarrassed, Willy turned and ran out the door.  Wanting to be alone for a bit, he snuck off to find a deserted alley.  Rounding a corner he heard a shot and saw a body fall off a nearby balcony.  Shocked and frightened, he ran back toward the harbor.  He would simply wait on the _Pearl_.  Running as fast as he could, he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following him.  Smack!  He ran straight into a very solid someone and fell on his rear.  Looking up cautiously, hoping pirates didn't shoot people for running into them, he was relieved beyond measure to recognize Captain Jack.  Looking very unsteady, Jack squinted at Willy, as if he couldn't quite see clearly.

            "You look familiar, have I threatened you before?" he slurred.  Recognizing that Jack was dead drunk, Willy answered uncertainly.

            "It's me, Captain Jack.  Willy Turner."

            "Turner, eh?  Wouldn't be related to old Bootstrap now, would you?"

            "Um…" Willy was unsure of how to answer.  Not that it really mattered, he was sure Captain Jack would not remember this in the morning.  He sidestepped Jack and continued on his way.  He spent the rest of the night dozing fitfully on the _Pearl_.


	6. The Search

            Will squinted into the sun and twiddled the helm.  The ship responded easily to his touch, bringing back pleasant (and not so pleasant) memories of the _Interceptor_.  This craft was much smaller, of course, but the feeling remained.  Will had to admit he enjoyed the sea; though he didn't have Willy's fervor for sailing, when not chasing undead pirates it was quite relaxing.  Will's thoughts turned to his son.  Where was he?  Was he all right?  What was he thinking?

            "Mr. Turner.  Mr. Turner?" Will was torn from his reverie by the sound of the Commodore's voice. "Mr. Turner, are you alright?"

            "Yes, Commodore.  I was just thinking about Willy…" Will trailed off, trying desperately to contain the lump that had formed in his throat.  Commodore Norrington's face took on a look of genuine concern.

            "Don't worry, Will," he said as gently as possible. "We will find him."  Will looked up, surprised, at the use of his first name.  As he did he could have sworn he saw the Commodore swipe at his eyes, brushing away…tears?  Was it possible?  Could this pompous, stuffy man actually _feel_?  Those suspicions were dispelled quickly, however.  "Take your leave, Mr. Turner.  Gillette will take the helm for a turn."  The Commodore turned sharply on his heel, leaving Will stunned at the wheel.  Will gave Gillette the helm and went to find Elizabeth.

Willy had been missing for two days now.  After gaining not only the Commodore's permission but his assistance, Will had determined that the best place to start looking would be Tortuga.  And so they had procured a small but fast ship and headed for the lively pirate haven.

"Will!  There you are.  I've been looking all over for you," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"I've been on the helm," Will explained.  He gazed fondly at his wife.  Even dirty and dressed in a sailor's uniform (dresses were hardly practical on a ship) she was beautiful.

"The men are saying we're approaching Tortuga." She paused, biting her lip worriedly.  "Will, do you think we'll find him?"

"Of course we will," Will said, a bit more forcefully than he had intended.  Softening his voice, he continued, "Pirate though he may be, Jack's a good man.  He won't let anything happen to him."  Elizabeth looked a little less than reassured.

"I hope you're right, Will," she replied quietly.  "I hope you're right."


	7. Two Days Behind

            Will cringed as he made his way through the crowded streets of Tortuga.  He hadn't been here in ten years and as far as he was concerned, it had not improved.  If anything, it had worsened.  _If that's even possible_, he thought.  As he walked along, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, he was jostled by prostitutes selling their wares, men knocked backwards from fights, and the occasional animal running for its life.  Of course, there were also rum bottles flying overhead, shots being fired constantly, and a handful of bodies thudding to the ground.  Will suddenly heard an awful retching sound behind him.  Turning, he saw the Commodore, dressed in common clothes, bending over and vomiting on the ground.  No one, save Will, had even noticed.

            Will helped the Commodore to his feet and led him to the nearest pub.  Pale-faced, the Commodore accepted a flagon of beer and a slice of bread.  Will sat with him until he recovered a bit, then looked around.  They had happened into _The_ _Faithful Bride_, its noisy and crowded surroundings familiar to Will.  As Will turned back to the Commodore to see if he was feeling well enough to continue on in their search, he caught someone staring at him.  His skin prickled as the hair on the back of his neck rose.

            The gawker was a particularly generously proportioned harlot, wearing a bright red dress that was halfway off her shoulders.  Her fleshy face was contorted in an expression of intense concentration, as if she was trying to remember something important.  Gazing intently at Will, her head tilted slightly, her eyes suddenly widened and she stood quickly, walking toward Will and the Commodore.  As her 'fragrance' wafted toward them, the Commodore moaned anew and ducked under the table.  Will almost chuckled at this overt display of discomfort among common people, but the woman was upon them.

            The woman poked Will hard in the arm to get his attention, as if he weren't already staring straight at her.  Frowning and rubbing his arm, he spoke.  
            "Yes?"

            "You're a fine looking man," she started, batting her eyelashes. "Look like a little lamb I saw last night.  Innocent thing.  Didn't even know what to say.  Do you –"

            Will interrupted. "A boy?  You saw a boy who looked like me?"

            The woman looked upset that he had disturbed her talk and pouted prettily.  Will didn't budge.  Finally realizing he wouldn't give, she responded. "I may've.  What's it worth to you?"

            Will sighed.  He had figured it would come to this.  He pulled out a few shillings and held them out.  She smiled and continued. "I saw a boy last night.  Looked a lot like you.  Little thing.  I would've taught him a thing or two, but some bloke with a parrot grabbed him off."

            "Do you know where they went?" Will asked eagerly.

            "How would I know that?" She pouted again, hoping for some pity, but it didn't work.  Will jumped up abruptly, grabbed the sick Commodore by the arm, and beat a hasty path out of the inn.  The Commodore dragging along behind, he hurried toward the harbor.

            "If she didn't know where they went," Will muttered.  "Maybe the harbormaster will."


	8. Advice From Mr Cotton

Willy's eyes were wide with fear as Gibbs dragged him through the streets. He didn't even remember where they were; some town that 'looked ripe for the picking' according to Captain Jack. Well, the picking hadn't gone far before the sheriff sent the law after them. Now they were running for their lives, hoping to reach the ship before they got caught.  
"Run, boy, run!" Gibbs panted, tugging Willy's arm harder. Willy didn't need telling twice. Catching sight of the _Black Pearl_ sitting peacefully in the harbor, he got a second wind and outstripped Gibbs. They clambered aboard with the help of a few sailors already on and set sail for the open sea.  
Willy sank to the deck as the crew waved at the angry troops on shore. Whistling and taunting, the crew didn't seem to notice as Willy crawled to a hatch and eased himself below-decks. This was not what he had imagined when he thought of being a pirate. Adventure, yes, but not fights for his life. And for what? A couple of bags of coins and some jewelry. Heck, his grandfather had more money than that.  
"Scrawk! No land in sight! Scrawk!"  
"I'm over here, Cotton," Willy replied. The old pirate poked his head in, looking quizzically at Willy. "I just...needed to be alone for a bit."  
Cotton nodded in understanding. "A pirate's life for me, but dead men tell no tales! Scrawk!"  
"Exactly," Willy agreed glumly. "I thought it would be fun, being a pirate. But it's not. It's cold, and hungry, and scary. Right now I don't know what to do."  
"Scrawk! Home port's the best port!"  
"Yeah," Willy smiled. "You're right. Thanks, Cotton."  
  
------------  
  
"Mr. Turner, may I talk to you?"  
"Commodore!" Will looked up in surprise. "Of course."  
"Mr. Turner...Will...I suppose you know about my feelings for Elizabeth."  
"Er, yes..." Will answered, wondering where this was going.  
"Oh, don't worry," the commodore added hastily, seeing the expression on Will's face. "I've resigned myself to the fact that she loves you, and not me. I'm not going to try anything. I just want to say that from the time Willy was born, I have regarded him as, well, almost my son." He peeked at Will, gauging his reaction.  
"Yes?" Will shrugged. He had known that for a long time.  
"You're...all right with that?"  
"Well, why wouldn't I be? Willy's my son, Commodore. The more people that love him, the happier I am."  
"Oh. Well. Isn't that wonderful. Well, Mr. Turner, I'm very glad we've had this chat. Good day." Will watched the retreating Commodore with amusement. The man could be very stuffy, very pompous, but he had a good heart.  
Will's thought turned back to Willy, whom they were never far from. They had been forced to give up the search when the harbormaster in Tortuga could not help them. That wouldn't have bothered Will, but they were running dangerously low on supplies. They would have to return to Port Royal to restock, and pick up the search in a few days. Elizabeth had been devastated. Will had tried to comfort her, but he was having difficulty not being angry at the commodore for giving up so easily. Nevertheless, they had little choice but to go along with the commodore.  
"We'll be docking soon," came a voice. Will looked to see Gillette standing next to him.  
"Thank you, Gillette," Will replied dully.  
Would they ever see Willy again? 


	9. Homecoming

Will helped Elizabeth down the gangplank as the rest of the crew bustled about the harbor, buying supplies. They would wait at the harbor until the ship was restocked, starting out at the first possible moment to resume the search.  
"Elizabeth! Will!"  
"Commodore, what's wrong?" Will asked.  
"There's a storm moving in from the east. It would be suicide to attempt to go out in it. I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to wait until morning to return to sea." He looked truly apologetic.  
"Thank you, Commodore, we understand," Will replied heavily. He was starting to realize that Willy could be gone forever. "Let's go home, Elizabeth. We'll come back in the morning."  
They trudged back to the smithy, neither really wanting to go in. The home would not be the same without Willy's bright charm around. Will pushed open the door, staring at his feet, not daring to look Elizabeth in the eye. He had failed her and Willy. He heard a gasp next to him, then a thud as Elizabeth fainted.  
"Elizabeth! Wake up!" he called, fanning her gently. "Corset too tight again?"  
"Willy!"  
"Don't worry, dear, we'll find him. He can't be too far."  
"No..._Willy_," she repeated, pointing behind him. Will turned so fast his head spun. There, by the fireplace, stood a very disheveled but very present Willy. Willy grinned and ran to them, hugging his parents like there was no tomorrow.  
"Mum! Dad! Oh, it's wonderful to see you!"  
"Willy, are you all right? Where have you been? Are you hurt?"  
"I'm fine, Mum. Just a little wiser. I've been sailing with Captain Jack!"  
"He's really quite the little sailor," interjected a familiar voice.  
"Jack! Why you..." Will started toward the outlandish pirate, but Willy tugged at his jacket.  
"No, Dad, I made him take me. I lied to him, told him you said it was all right."  
"And you believed him?" Will asked Jack.  
"Well, not at first..." Jack started. "He told me the lady would have a bottle of rum and a kiss for me."  
"Willy!"  
"Sorry, Mum." 


	10. Epilogue

Will Turner continued to serve Port Royal as its only blacksmith, amassing quite a sum of money. Some he gave to the poor, some he gave to his son, and some he gave to his friend Jack. He lived a long and healthy life, finally dying of old age shortly after his son's promotion to Commander.

Commodore Norrington retired soon after the events of this story. He lived on a rather good pension until his death. He never married.

Captain Jack Sparrow got his rum and his kiss...on the cheek. He captained the _Black Pearl_ for many more years, finally turning over command when he could no longer fulfil his duties. He retired to Tortuga and enjoyed the high life for a few years until his death.

Young Willy Turner went on to fulfil his love of the sea in a more...legal...profession: the Navy. Commissioned as a midshipman under Captain Gillette, he rose quickly through the ranks and eventually attained the rank of Commodore. He commanded a fleet of six ships, before his tragic death in a firing accident.


End file.
